No Longer Alone
by Prince of Madness 54
Summary: All of the pawns were gathering. Events were set in motion that would change the face of Thedas forever. It was all going according to plan, until HE changed it all and found HER.  Mahariel/Morrigan M for violence and language, post DA:O
1. Chapter 1

**First off I would like to thank my beta xseikax for helping me out with this, she has been a huge help.**

**Now without further delay chapter 1**

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Hero of Fereldan!" Alistair announced to the assembled nobles. The crowd erupted in roaring cheers that echoed against the walls. Theron Mahariel resisted the urge to cover his pointed ears but thought better of it. He didn't know much of shemlen politics, but he did know that appearances were very important and something like that could be considered incredibly rude.

Once the roar of the crowd began to die down a little, Alistair turn to the elf."As the new King of Fereldan," Theron could swear that Alistair glared at him when he said that. "Is there any boon you would ask of me? If it is within my power I shall grant it."

Theron thought for a moment before answering. "I want my people to have land they may call their own!" A cheer or two could be heard, most likely from the few Dalish who had been allowed in, but mostly of the crowd began to murmur quizzically. The Dalish hadn't officially owned land in since they were forced out of the Dales by an Exulted March.

"Very well, I gift The Hinterlands, including Ostagar to the Dalish Elves." Alistair proclaimed. The murmuring grew louder and a few lords even began to object.

"You're giving our land away to some knife ears!" A lord shouted. A chorus of voices rose in support of the remark.

Theron found the noble in the crowd and glared at him. This was the same noble who had insulted him during his confrontation with Loghain. His hands twitched towards the dagger on his belt, wishing he was able to end this shemlan's life. After all he and his people had done for this man, they were all still just still considered second class citizens.

He had led countless allies, including fifty of his own people against the Archdemon. They had fought valiantly to keep the darkspawn occupied while he had delt with the vicious creature. His people had lost dozens in defense of a shem city, and this is how they were repaid.

"Hey those _knife ears_ helped save your life and end this blight; show them some respect!" Bann Teagan shouted back at the man. A bit of the elf's rage ebbed seeing that someone appreciated the sacrifices of his people.

The room descended into chaos as the assembled lords began to voice their opinions about the situation simultaneously, and rather loudly. Alistair and his guards tried to quiet the crowd to no avail. Theron sighed and stepped a bit closer to the king and drew a dagger.

Alistair turned to him in alarm. "Don't kill anybody! There is enough chaos around here as there is!"

Theron sighed again and cut a rope holding up an iron chandelier. The hundred pound piece of iron crashed to the stone floor with a thunderous bang, promptly silencing the noble. Most were wide eyed in surprise, no one had ever seen someone try to silence a room so brazenly before.

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose shaking his head. Theron was not a subtle person sometimes, but he got the job done. "As I was saying, the Dalish will receive the Hinterlands, and I am also presenting Amaranthine as a gift to the Grey Wardens." The crowd begins murmuring again but Alistair ignores them turning to his Dalish friend. "What do you plan on doing now that this whole adventure is over?"

Theron was unsure himself, he wanted to do several things but he could only be in one place at a time. "I don't know really. I want to go looking for Morrigan, but the darkspawn are still a threat for a few months more, I am still needed."

Alistair nodded, thinking to himself for a moment "How about I give you a few months to go look for her, then you can take over command at Amaranthine."

Theron stared at Alistair in shock for a moment, his eyes wide his mouth slightly agape. Taking command in Amaranthine would make him an Arl. He was an elf, A Dalish elf at that, it just wasn't done. The nobles might try killing both Alistair and him for that decision. "You're going to make me the Arl? Alistair think about this for a moment. We might be good friends, but even you can see the problems with this. Elevating an elf to a position of power, Hero of Fereldan or not, will be unpopular. Finally, I know only what you and Eamon have taught me about politics, I wouldn't know how to run an arling."

"Theron think about it for a moment. I have seen you convince several dozen mercenaries we were Antivan Crows armed to the teeth, all the while being unarmed and drunk, you can handle some nobles. Secondly, and more importantly you just killed a fucking Arch Demon; anyone stupid enough to try and kill you will get what is coming to them."

Theron glared at his friend in frustration, which only caused Alistair to grin mischievously. "Think of it like this, you made me a king so I am rewarding your faith in me."

Alistair's grin only grew. "And if you don't think I have authority over you because you're Dalish," His face grows serious but his eyes still betray his amusement. "Then as the Senior Grey Warden in Fereldan I hereby order you to report to Vigils Keep in three months time and take control of the garrison there."

Theron sighed, shaking his head; Alistair had really backed him into a corner this time. He knew Alistair would get back at him somehow for making him king without his say, but the elf didn't expect to be made an Arl. "As you wish your majesty, I will take my position as Arl in four months time." Theron bowed slightly

"I told you three months." Alistair corrected, scowling at him. Theron smiled slightly knowing how much being called "your majesty" got under Alistair's skin.

"You did, but I want more time. Besides you can't do much to punish me, you can either send men after me, which you know is a horrible idea, or you can threaten to take my position of Arl away. Either way it doesn't affect me too much." Theron shrugged.

Alistair gawked at him for a moment. He sighed and hung his head; he clapped his hand down on Theron's shoulder and smiled. "Four months then. Now, you have an adoring public waiting for you, so before they become a violent mob humor them and let them see their savior."

Theron smiled at his friend and nodded before gracefully jumping off the stage. He flipped once, the drake skin armor not hampering his acrobatic ability, before landing lightly in front of a startled noble.

Alistair watched as his friend began conversing with the others calling out "See you in five months Alistair!" He and Zevran begin walking away towards the door with Ashalle close behind. Alistair was about to object when a stream of nobles crowded around him wanting the chance to be the first to suck up to the new king.

.I.

Several hours later, after dodging several mobs of enthusiastic commoners and nobles, Theron sat happily around a bon fire as Zevran retold their adventures to the Dalish. Children and adults alike gathered round to listen to Zeveran's exaggerated tales.

"And then five high dragons descended from the mountain top spewing great balls of fire…"

"It was only one high dragon Zevran, and you know it." Theron interrupted with a laugh, throwing Fallon a clean lamb bone. The mabari gave an appreciative bark.

"Well she fought like five dragons." Zevran claimed, not missing a beat and continued with the story of how they retrieved the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Theron smile slowly receded as he gazed up at the moon. He wanted to start searching for Morrigan immediately but he had no idea where to start. He had accompanied the Dalish when they left Denerim for tonight, but come day break he would begin searching for Morrigan with Zevran.

His biggest problem was that he had no idea where to start looking, with her powers she could be anywhere. She could be in Orlais by now if she really wanted to. He figured she would avoid the south, even with Flemeth dead one could never be too careful, so his best bet was to head to Highever or one of the other northern cities and start searching there.

"Someone is missing their lady friend it seems." Zevran chuckled as he sat down next to Theron, his storytelling over.

"You had a mate?" Ashalle asked curiously, "You never mentioned this to me before.

"Yes, a fiery sorceress, powerful as she was beautiful. Though she denied me several times, she seems to of taken a liking to our young warden here."

"A sorceress? She was the first to a keeper, was it Lanaya?" Ashalle asked confused.

"No, she was a human apostate, you might have heard of her as one of the witches of the wild." Theron looked up at his adoptive aunt.

"A shemlen!" Her eyes widened in surprise. "Theron, I wouldn't have taken you for the type to court a shem."

Theron laughed shaking his head. "Neither did I, she was cruel and vindictive at times but there was another side of her that only I really ever got to see. She could be kind and loving at times, no matter how she tried to hide it." His mind began to wander to happier times he and the witch had shared. Nights spent gazing at the stars, the feeling of peace as his witch lay nestled in his embrace.

The snap of Zevran's fingers broke his trace. "Lover boy, you are beginning to drift off."

Theron shook his head, the memories of his witch drifting back into the recesses of his mind. "Sorry, spaced out for a moment there." A silence fell upon the trio for a moment.

"Why isn't she with us da'len?" Ashalle asked curiously, breaking the awkward silence.

"Why isn't who with us?"

Zevran turned away, knowing where this was going.

"Your mate da'len, why is she not with us, it is obvious that you care deeply for her?"

Theron's face fell, "The night before the battle…" He paused, embarrassed to tell his aunt such things. "she told me that there was a way to save me from dying after killing an Archdemon. If she was with child that bore the taint, that child could absorb the soul of the Archdemon and allow both of us to live. That option came with a catch…if I took this option, she would have to leave forever. I agreed and we conceived a child, after the battle was over she left." Theron tipped back his tankard draining the last of his ale as he finished.

"Oh da'len, I am sorry." Ashalle wrapped her arms around Theron in a tight hug. He hugged her back letting his sorrow and grief slip away for a moment.

At the back of his mind he could feel something; it was familiar to him, something he had felt time and time again. There were darkspawn coming, and fast. Jumping up he whipped Starfang and Duncan's old sword out of their lyrium wrapped scabbards and bolted towards the feeling, Zevran in tow. Over the months since his adventure started, he had Sandal lace both blades with the most powerful lightning and silverite runes he could get his hands on, making both blades incredibly deadly, especially to darkspawn. The electrical current running through the blades was so strong that two specially crafted scabbards needed to be crafted of lyrium to contain the powerful magic.

"Hunters, hurry to arms, darkspawn approach!" He shouted. The camp came to life, hunters grabbing bows and swords as mothers and elders shepherded children into cover in the aravels.

They soon came upon the disturbance, a darkspawn war band, a dozen gunlocks, a few hurlocks and one rather odd looking hurlock alpha. The darkspawn did not seem surprised to see him and the alpha stepped forward.

"I come to speak with the…" The sentence was never finished as Theron's crackling blades carved the alpha in two with ease. Not missing a beat, Theron followed the blades to the ground, ending up on all fours. This allowing Zevran to springboard into two hurlocks, his curves blades promptly decapitated both in a spray of crimson blood.

The genlocks hastily raised their bows, panicked by the sudden turn of events. Several haphazardly shot arrows flew in the direction of the elves, most coming short or missing the elves entirely. The pair pounced upon their prey with lethal grace, carving through the unfortunate darkspawn. Theron quickly got lost in the heat of battle. It all felt right to him: the tempo of his swings, the feeling of his blades entering a darkspawn's gut. His problems with Morrigan faded away, if only for a few minutes.

As the last genlock was felled by Zevran's blade, the pair took a moment to consider what had occurred. "Did that darkspawn speak?" Zevran asked hesitantly, hoping he was just going crazy.

"I believe it did, but they have never spoken before…" Theron muttered, worried by this turn of events. He had slaughtered countless darkspawn before, and even the most powerful emissary or alpha had never uttered a sound, aside from primal screams of furry or grunts of pain.

"Then I am not just going crazy…" Zevran muttered.

"No, no you are not falon."

"We may not wish to speak of this to anyone, no?" Zevran asked hesitantly

"No, we won't want to frighten the clan. When the wardens of Orlais arrive I shall investigate these talking Darkspawn." Theron lead the way back to camp.

" 'Twas rather eerie is it not?"

" 'Twas indeed"

.I.

"Dear can you tell the children that supper is ready?" Morrigan called as she put the finishing touches on the beef stew.

"Sure thing!" A voice responded.

She heard a shout, but was unable to make out what was said, within seconds of that shout she heard a chorus of cheers begin to draw closer. She heard them before she saw them, as two forms came crashing into the kitchen.

"I won" The first boy declared jubilantly. The boy no older than ten, with shoulder length black hair that obscured his pointed elvan ears, one braid ran down the left side of his head. His unusual golden eyes shone with pride, believing he bested his opponent.

"Nah ah, I won." The second boy insisted. He was a bit younger than the first and wore his black hair short, preventing his pointed ears from being obscured like his brother's and father's. His green eyes glared strait into his brother's golden ones.

Morrigan grinned, rolling her eyes at her eldest two boy's shenanigans. Every day it was the same race, and the same result. She wondered how they never grew tired of trying to best the other even though day after day they always tied.

"Mama!" Morrigan heard before she felt something crash into her leg and cling to it. She looked down to see a little girl with long braided black hair and big amber eyes stare back at her.

She could hear Theron laughing as he picked up the little girl, swinging her around as he did, and resulting in peals of laughter from the toddler. He set the girl back down "Go wash up before dinner kids." The three children ran off already arguing about something again. The witch could feel a pair of arms wrap around her and she leaned into the embrace content with the moment of peace.

A sudden shriek broke the calm, sending a chill down the witch's spine. This wasn't a scream that came from the boys teasing their sister; this was a scream of pure terror. Not bothering to see if Theron was following her she ran towards the sound of the shriek.

Morrigan could smell the blood before she reached the room. She kicked open the door, hands coated in lightning, ready to kill whatever made her little girl scream like that. What she found was almost too much for her, and she began to feel her knees grow weak. Before her lay the bodies of her three children, their throats slit and their necks still heavily bleeding, their eyes wide in shock. Theron raced into the room a second later, the same horrified expression adorning his face as he saw the carnage.

Morrigan's eyes began to tear up and she placed her head in her hands, not able to look at the horrific sight any longer. She heard Theron trudged towards the bodies and heard his knees hit the wooden floor. "What kind of sick bastard di…" His voice just died suddenly and she heard a heavy thud.

She looked up to see Theron dead on the ground, a familiar figure standing over him. "Hello child it has been a long time. You thought you could get away with your little plan? Escape reality with your lovely little family hoping I would never come for you and just move on." Flemeth taunted, fiddling with a wicked looking dagger coated in blood.

"You bitch; you killed my children, my husband!" She raised a shaking hand and drew upon her power releasing a stream of fire. Flemeth side stepped the fire, which lit the house on fire, cackling.

"What's wrong girl? Grief throwing your aim off? This is what love does to you, it weakens you, makes you vulnerable. I tried to teach you that but I guess you weren't taught well enough." Flemeth concluded, cackling as the fire finally engulfed the whole room.

.I.

Morrigan woke with a start, coated in a layer of sweat, her nightdress clinging to her. She had been plagued by nightmares such as these since she had left Denerim several weeks ago. The dreams all shared a common theme, her fear of Flemeth killing those she loved. She tried to suppress her feelings as much as she could, but it was becoming harder and harder as her pregnancy progressed. She couldn't even look down at her stomach without a memory of the elf surfacing.

Though it was still fairly early in the pregnancy and she wasn't showing yet, she was still always aware of the life growing inside of her. Morrigan groaned as a bout of nausea hit her. This was another constant reminder of what she and her elf had done; the morning sickness. She grabbed a pail she kept by her beside and was promptly sick.

After cleaning up the vomit she quickly dressed, grabbing a small coin purse and headed out to Highever Market. She had tried to go south back to the Kokari Wilds to wait for her child to be born but when she had heard that the Dalish were given lands bordering the wilds, she decided against that idea. She knew that Theron would defiantly accompany his people south, so after two weeks of traveling south she turned around and began heading north. Eventually she arrived in Highever and decided to take a break from running for a few weeks, figuring that Theron would be hard at work in the Hinterlands. What she saw as she entered the market both infuriated and startled her.

"Damn that impossible elf" She muttered. There standing in the market square was Theron and that moron of an assassin. She ducked into one of the back allies and began to weaving her way through the back streets to make her way back to the inn she had been staying at. She entered the building with a relieved sigh; Theron was nowhere in sight. Other than a few new drunks nearly passed out on the bar, the patrons looked like the same ones they were all week.

She marched straight into her room, ignoring the bartender who tried to make a pass on her, yet again. She had half a mind to light the insolent man's trousers on fire, but she had more important things to deal with at the moment. Slamming the door shut, Morrigan began tearing the room apart, stuffing the essential items into her leather pack. She knew what Theron was like, once he started looking for someone they were as good as found, unless they made great haste to get away from him, which was exactly what the witch intended to do.

She flipped the straw mattress up reveling the loose floorboard where she stored anything of value she had, which wasn't much. A few dozen sovereigns, an odd trinket or two, her sword Spellweaver, and a golden mirror. A pang of guilt shot through Morrigan as she picked up the mirror.

It was a thing of beauty, made of solid gold, encrusted with rubies and emeralds. Theron had bought it for her during their excursions in Orzamar. It was identical to the one Flemeth destroyed when she was a child; it was her most cherished possession. The mirror also brought up feelings of deep sorrow, this mirror was a constant reminder of what she had done and who she had left, yet she couldn't bear getting rid of it.

Images of her dream flashed in her mind, a strong reminder why she had to leave him. Love made a person weak and susceptible, something neither of them could afford. Stuffing the mirror into the pack and forcing her emotions back down into the recesses of her soul; she attached her sword to her hip and stormed out the door.

She gracefully glided down the stairs, trying to remain inconspicuous but while armed with a sword on her hip that was kind of difficult. She hurried across the main room with great haste until she noticed something. Sitting at the bar was a new patron; he was a fair haired elf with a thick Antivan accent ordering another drink. A mabari war hound lay at his feet, and when it looked up at her the massive dog bounded up to her, tackling her to the ground.

"Get off of me this instant you stupid mutt!" Morrigan tried in vain to prevent the mabari from attempting to lick her face off. Though she appeared mad, Morrigan was more nervous than angry. She knew this was Fallon, Theron's dog they had picked up after Ostagar. She could catch a brief glance or two in the direction of the bar and saw Zevran's amused grin staring at the scene.

"Fallon get off of her." A voice called out. Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, froze in fear as the massive mabari lumbered off of her and to his master's side. "Are you ok, Morrigan?" Theron asked offering her his hand.

Morrigan scowled at the elf angrily, getting up on her own, ignoring Theron's gesture. "I would be alright if that stupid mutt of yours hadn't tried to kill me, and if you had listened and stayed as far away from me as you possibly could."

The elf sighed and tried the best he could to help her up; the witch in turn slapped his hands away. "I do not need your help." Her words were a scathing hiss.

"Really? It seemed like you needed my help a minute ago." Theron smirked.

"You bastard, if you hadn't brought that damned mongrel with you I wouldn't have needed help in the first place!" This elf was impossible, why couldn't he leave her well enough alone.

"If you hadn't run away then this would have never happened!" Theron voice rose to match her own.

This took Morrigan aback for a moment. Theron rarely raised his voice to anyone, let alone her. Her leaving must have affected him more than she thought. She steeled her resolve, telling herself that this was the exact reason she had to leave; they were becoming too deeply affected by one another.

"I did not run away, I left and it was for our own good."

"So raising our child on the run is for you own good?" Theron accused.

Morrigan was quiet for a moment, she knew that is how things would play out if she continued to run from him, she just never really thought about it for too long.

"I hate to get in between a lover's quarrel, but maybe you might wish to continue this conversation somewhere else." Zevran interjected. The entire room was staring at the two, many of the human men were unsure if they should help the woman who was being pestered by a "painted elf".

"There will no longer be any problem, for I am leaving. I refuse to put up with this nonsense anymore." Morrigan shoved past the two elves to try and make it to the door. She was beginning to feel nauseous again and her stomach was churning, she knew exactly what that meant; she was about to be sick. She tried to sprint out the door, desperate to get away from her ex lover; she couldn't bear for him to see her reduced to this.

Theron was faster though, placing himself between her and freedom at the last moment. "Morrigan please, no more running away." Theron's tone was much gentler this time.

She gave him a glare of pure hatred. _You rotten bastard!_ "Theron please let me pass." She begged.

Theron's eyes widened in surprise at her sudden desperation, "Morrigan are you ok, you're looking very pale?"

She opened her mouth; to snap at him when the feeling hit, she knew she couldn't suppress it any longer. She bolted to a corner of the room not occupied by a drunk and was sick.

.I.

Theron sat on the edge of Morrigan's bed as the witch tried to clean herself up. Zervran was in the bar trying to calm down the angry owner. "Morrigan I'm sorry I didn't…"

"I do not want to hear you speak." Morrigan growled out, interrupting him. " 'Tis bad enough that you won't leave me well enough alone and now this…" She trailed off, mumbling curses under her breath.

Morrigan finished cleaning up and stormed across the room to grab a towel from her bag, glaring at Theron. Her glare screamed: _this is all your fault._ Theron stood and slowly made his way to Morrigan's side. He wrapped his muscular arms around her midsection right above the slight bump.

Morrigan melted into his embrace; she had missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, it was a comforting feeling and always made he feel safe. His muscles weren't huge and bulging like she had seen on some human men, but they were strong and lean from years of swordplay.

No, she couldn't be get sucked in again, "Let me go you bastard." She tried in vain to wriggle out of the elf's iron embrace.

"No."

Morrigan screamed in fury finally breaking out of Theron's grip and slammed her fist onto his chest in frustration. Tears welled in her eyes as she repeatedly beat on the elf's chest. "Why can't you just let me go?" She screamed as her tear ducts overflowed and she buried her head into Theron's shoulder and cried.

He wrapped his arms around her again in an attempt to comfort her. "I can't let you go Morrigan, I love you." This brought on another rush of tears from the witch.

For several minutes she cried. With each tear a bit of the hopelessness, and loneliness she had felt over the past month disappeared. As a young girl she had been scolded by Flemeth time and time again for every time she shed a tear. For years after she had viewed it as one of the biggest signs of weakness a person could express, but now things were different. No matter how much she wanted to be ashamed or disappointed with herself here in her elf's arm she only felt safe and loved.

"Impossible elf…" She sniffled looking back up to meet his gaze.

He smiled and wiped a tear from her face, "maybe, but I'm your impossible elf, and I always will be." He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss. Morrigan stiffened and backed away.

"No Theron, we can't do this to ourselves, not again." Morrigan said her golden eyes full of regret and sorrow. The last time the two had parted the witch had spent days steeling herself for what she had to do. It was the most difficult decision she had ever made. Once again the images of her dream rose to the surface steeling her resolve.

"We don't have to; you can come with me to Amaranthine, you don't have to run." Theron stared deeply into Morrigan's golden orbs. He close the distance the witch had created and took her hand. "I want to be in your life, in our child's life. I love you Morrigan."

Morrigan's mind raced, recreating the dreams she had been having recently. The small cottage away from all the bustle of city life, their three children, free to practice her magic and teach her children, then the images of her dreams always ended began appearing. The image of the cottage burning; Theron and the children lying dead at Flemeth's feat as she cackled, "This is what happens when you allow love to make you weak, foolish child."

Morrigan shook her head to get rid of the image, as something occurred to her. "Why would you be headed to Amaranthine of all places?" She asked directing her attention back to the elf.

"Alistair, in his infinite wisdom has decided to make me Commander of the Grey, which also makes me Arl of Amaranthine." Theron sighed heavily; he still thought Alistair was being foolish putting him in charge.

"Just like you in your infinite wisdom decided to make him king?" Morrigan teased.

The two shared a good laugh for several moments before Theron spoke again. "So will you come with me?"

Morrigan turned and stepped away from the elf. "Theron I cannot, my mother will be back for me one of these days, and the last thing I want is you dying because I let us grow weak."

"Do you forget who "killed" her? She will most likely want her revenge on me as well. When she does come wouldn't it be best if we were able to face her together." The elf reasoned trying to make her see things from his point of view.

Morrigan's brow furrowed, she hadn't thought of that. Theron had killed Flemeth for her to prevent the old bat from stealing her body. Flemeth might be upset with Theron for killing her, and have him killed. An image of Theron lying dead in some random patch of forest came to mind. He truly was in just as much danger as she was, wasn't he?

She grinned looking back at the elf. "You make a fine point; I guess I could humor you and return with you." She replied slowly.

Theron's eyes widened in pure shock, he had expected that he would need to spend another several hours trying to convince Morrigan to come back with him. For as long as he'd known the witch she had been as stubborn as a mule, never had she given in without a very long drawn out fight.

"Morrigan are you feeling alright?" A huge smirk was plastered on his face as he placed the back of his hand upon her forehead.

"'Tis not a fever from which I draw this decision but logic." She said playfully smacking away his hand "You are right, if Flemeth hunts us both 'tis wise to be together and be able to combine our power." She retorted a bemused smirk grace her lips.

The elf hugged his witch tightly "Ma'arlath emma'vhenan'ara" He whispered in her ear.

Morrigan knew how serious these words were. It was not just some petty, I love you; the Dalish guarded what little of the elvish language they had reclaimed fiercely. Letting a human like herself hear those words, let alone know what they meant was one of the biggest signs of trust a Dalish could give.

Trying to remember some of the elvish he had taught her over the months she tried to form a fluid sentence, " Emma shiral'u…din…." Morrigan began trailing off embarrassed, a light blush appearing on her cheeks.

"No need to blush emma lath, I get what you are trying to say." He bent down and brushed her lips with his own;but desire rose from that simple contact and he pushed closer to her as the world around him faded, his only thoughts were of the woman in his arms. No matter what forces came against her, he would never make her deal with it alone.

**Elvish Translations**

**Falon: friend**

**Da'len: Child**

**Ma'arlath emma'vhenan'ara: I love you my heart's desire**

**Emma shiral'u…din….: Morrigan's attempt at saying, My journey alone is no more **

**AN: Well as some of you can obviously see I am basically forgetting the Witch Hunt DLC ever existed. It kind of annoyed me that the Warden, if he romanced Morrigan, didn't even begin to look for her for two years. Even if at the end of DA: O one of you options is to go right after her.**

**Anyway enough of my rambling for awhile. I will probably start chapter 2 at the beginning of Awakening, which I am also changing around to suit my need. I will try and have this ready by next Friday but no promises. I have had a lot of homework as of late so I might have to make writing a second priority.**

**Anyway please review, I always appreciate good constructive criticism.**

**Prince of Madness 54**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for everyone who reviewed on the last chapter. I would like to apologies for the time it took to get this chapter out to you guys. Between schoolwork, getting the plot where I wanted it, and a tech problem, things have been going rather slowly, but I know exactly what I'm doing for the next chapter, plus with Christmas vacation coming up I will have A LOT of free time soon.**

**Thanks again to my Beta xseikax for helping me out with this chapter. Check out her story Eyes of a Stranger, it is amazing.**

**Now without further delay please enjoy the next chapter.**

9:31 Dragon, Drakonis 23rd

"When your tía said we would be spending a lot of time with hoes, I was hoping she had something else in mind," Zevran grumbled. He and Theron had spent the better part of the day tilling the soil of Ashalle's new field; Zevran had been grumbling and complaining the entire time.

Thanks to the decree of King Alistair, the elves, who were for the first time granted land, had built a series of small farms along the border of the Redcliffe Arling; most lands farther south had become too corrupted by the taint of the darkspawn. Nothing would be able to grow in the fields for several years, possibly decades. Despite this, the elves had been granted money by Alistair to begin settling farther north until the Hinterlands were habitable again. With the help of the Dwarves, a boon from King Bhelen, the construction was well underway.

"Theron, if we do not leave soon, there will be no daylight left to travel by." Morrigan sat impatiently in the back of a horse drawn cart as Ashalle loaded some final sacks of food into the back.

The two elves nodded and deposited their tools in the shack before meeting the women at the cart. "Are you sure you will be able to manage these fields by yourself?" Theron looked at Ashalle

Ashalle laughed, and hugged her adoptive nephew. "I'll be fine da'len; I'm not a hahren yet. Besides, some of the elves from the surrounding alienages are planning to move to the area soon. Help should be easy enough to find then. _Ma serannas_, both of you for your help, but your mate is right, da'len you need to go now, or else you will have no day light left, go." She mockingly shooed them away.

"Dareth_ Shiral_." Theron hugged his aunt one last time. Hopping up into the cart, he quickly snapped the reins and the three headed off, back to Denerim.

.II.

"Ok we're here." Merrill happily walked over to a small alter and placed an amulet upon it.

Garret Hawke kept his hands on both of the daggers at his hips. While it seemed like the battles were over, after watching corpses rise out of the ground for the past twenty minutes in places that _seemed_ safe, he wanted to be prepared.

Merrill began softly chanting over the amulet. " _Hahren na melana sahlin emma ir abelas souver'inan; isala hamin vhenan him dor'felas in uthenera na revas._" As the final words were spoken, a jet white hot flames burst from the amulet. The flames danced for a moment, before condensing to a humanoid shape.

"Ah and here we are." From the flames Flemeth emerged, exactly as Hawke remembered her looking a year ago. Her hair spiked white hair, which somewhat resembling Qunari horns and wearing armored black robes.

"Andaran_ atish'an Asha'belannar._" Merrill bowed low, falling to one knee.

Flemeth looked at the little elf girl. "One of the people, so young and bright. Tell me child, do you know who I am beyond that title?"

"I know only a little."

"Then stand child; The People bend their knee too quickly." She chuckled. "Except for that grey warden boy, but that was a special case it seems."

Merrill blushed lightly as she stood.

The witch turned her gaze to Hawke, and grinned slightly. "It is so nice to see someone uphold their end of the bargain. I half expected to find the amulet in some merchant's pocket."

"Well I tried to sell it, but there were no takers. Maybe because there was a witch inside." Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Merrill stifling a giggle.

"Just a piece child, a small piece, but it was all I needed. It was a bit of security should the inevitable occur, and if I know my Morrigan it already has." Flemeth smiled slightly as she spoke.

Hawke shrugged, he had bigger concerns than this right now. Like keeping the Templar's away from Bethany, rounding up fifty sovereigns and not getting killed. "I take it you have plans?"

"Destiny awaits us both child. But before I leave some advice," She turned to stare at the sky. "We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment…and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall you can learn whether you can fly."

"Cheap advice, coming from a dragon." Hawke smirked.

"We all have our challenges." Flemeth shrugged, before once again turned to address Merrill.

"As for you child remember this, a dark path looms before you, tread lightly if you do not wish to sink deeper into it." Flemeth turned to the cliff face and stood near the precipice. "It is time to take my leave. You have my thanks." Her body began to glow and in a flash of light a high dragon stood in her place. Its wings beat heavily, throwing up clouds of dust into the air. With a roar Flemeth soared into the distance.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Merrill asked no in particular.

Hawke shrugged. "The path back down the mountain is going to be muddy."

"Do you really think that is what she meant? Hmm... maybe I should've worn my boots." Hawke couldn't help but laugh at the elf's naivety.

.II.

Flemeth landed on a cliff just across the pass. She smirked as she reverted back to her human form. She found it rather amusing; all she needed to do was spout some philosophical nonsense, and people were easily manipulated.

It was finally time to put the second part of her plan into action. Hundreds of years of plotting and waiting were coming together; she would finally be able to achieve her goal. All that was left was setting events into motion. She would have to wait, but she had spent five hundred years waiting; a few more would be nothing.

She gathered her power, phasing into the form of a hawk. She spread her wings and launched herself off the cliff; the wind raced along her feathers as she began to level out. The minutes past quickly, as the dark shape in the distance began to take a more definite shape, the city of Kirkwall. Soon the grand masts of the numerous ships docked at port became visible, along with her real prize.

A small single mast sloop was slowly making its way into port. Flemeth glided to the prow of the ship, gazing upon the passengers disembarking. Two figures in particular caught her eye; an old woman with messy grey hair, and a much younger man in his thirties, who carried a thick parcel under his arm. The man's eyes shifted back and forth nervously; the minute he was free of the crowd he began hurriedly walking away from the ship. As he turned a corner into an alley, there was a loud cry of outrage. A dark skinned Rivaini woman sprinted out of the ship, two golden hilted daggers grasped tightly in her hands.

"You thieving bastard! Get back here!" The woman tried to force her way through the crowd, but she had drawn too much attention to herself. The guards, seeing a woman with her weapons drawn in a throng of people, immediately reacted, swarming her and shouting several orders to drop her weapons.

Flemeth turned away from the distraction and took flight once again. She soared high above the docks, watching as the man ran through the labyrinth of alleys.

The man ran for several more minutes, but began picking up speed as the alleyway opened up to the main streets. He grew excited, and flat out ran towards his goal, only to hastily stop as the old woman from the boat stepped into the alley, blocking his exit.

The man tried to avoid the old woman and fell flat on his ass, momentarily dazed. Flemeth swooped down and landed on the woman's now outstretched arm; a golden light surrounded them both as their consciences began to meld together. Memories of the fragment's experiences flooded Flemeth's mind; she knew this man had what she needed. It would be simple enough to take it from him.

"Ah, it is nice to be one again; my power was so limited before. Now young man, you have something I want. Give it to me."

The man's eyes widened in shock. "Demon! Get away from me!" He tried to back away, but suddenly found himself rooted in place by a crushing force. He heard a series of harsh cracks, and felt his ribs crunching.

"Such bad manners; did no one teach you to respect your elders." Flemeth increased the intensity of the gravity well, drawing a scream from the man's lips as more bones began to break. "Now, will you give me what I seek?"

"Here, take it!" The man tried to throw the parcel towards her, but the increased gravity sent the parcel slamming into the ground.

Flemeth grinned, and constricted the spell to only increase the gravity near the man's upper torso. The intensity of the spell, and the man's screams, slowly rose until, with a sickening sound, the man's screaming subsided. The man's skull was now nothing more than a bloody mess upon the ground.

Flemeth grabbed the parcel and teleported to the roof the nearest building. Below, she could see Templar's racing to the scene, finally detecting her magic. Screams of, "Blood Mage!" and "Maleficar!" could be heard from the alley. Ignoring them, Flemeth opened the parcel. She smiled at the contents.

"Ah, The Tome of Koslun." The next instrument to her plan was finally in her hands. She gazed out, and couldn't be happier. Approaching the harbor was a mass of black smoke that could only signal one thing. The Qunari were perusing their sacred relic. Yes this would set things in motion very nicely.

.II.

"Theron, I would like you to meet, Dietrich von Kämpher, Senior Warden from Cumberland." Theron gazed up at the giant man Alistair had introduced. He was tall man, especially considering Theron's own diminutive stature, with short cropped hair and hard iced blue eyes. He was built like a bear, thick muscular arms, broad shoulders; he was obviously a seasoned warrior. Heavy plate mail adorned his body; a massive battle axe was strapped to his back.

"Greetings; ahs thee king said, I am vrom thee Order in Cumberland. Thee Virst Varden has sent me to oversee how vell you can run Amaranthine. I shall be staying in Denerim, to alleviate thee pressure of having me vatch over your every move."

"I see. Is the First Warden concerned about my rule already? I haven't even started screwing things up yet."

Dietrich's face remained the same cold hard expression, and Theron shrugged. "It was a joke."

"I do not veel 'that this is a matter to be joking about. Thee Virst Varden is trusting Alistair's choice in making you thee Commander of thee Grey, but iv you make a choice that vill bring harm to thee Order, then I am to replace you as Commander."

Theron bowed "I am honored that the First Warden trusts such a new warden with such a task."

Dietrich nodded "Alistair vill fill you in on thee remaining details, I have other matters to attend to." The man briskly walked out of Alistair's study, slamming the door shut behind him.

"He sure is a pleasant one, isn't he?" Theron cracked a grin. He was glad to see Alistair again. They both shared a laugh before growing serious.

"Now onto business. How many Warden's did the Orlesians send us?" Alistair handed the elf several papers with the list of names.

"That first page is a list of the twenty or so Warden that Orlais sent, along with the two that accompanied Dietrich from Cumberland. The second page is a short list of recruits from Fereldan who have volunteered. Finally, the last three pages are a list of the normal garrison stationed at Vigils Keep." Alistair opened a desk drawer and pulled out a lock box. Using a small bronze key, he opened the box and pulled out a sealed letter. "And this is the list of the special detachment that was sent to train at Soldiers' Peak." He hesitated. "Do you think it was wise to keep these soldiers hidden from Dietrich and the rest of the Order?"

After finding Morrigan, Theron had briefly gone back to Denerim. While discussing plans for Vigils Keep, the topic of Ostagar arose. When the next two Blights came along, it would be catastrophic if all of the Wardens in Fereldan were killed in one battle again, so a plan was devised. A group of thirty Wardens would be stationed at Soldiers' Keep. Their existence would be kept a secret from everyone except the King of Fereldan, and the Commander of the Grey. Their job was to be a highly trained relief force, only to be deployed as a last resort during a Blight.

"Alistair, relax, these men aren't even Wardens yet; they aren't anyone's concern except ours until I put them through the joining." Theron broke the wax sealed and scanned the list of names, recognizing one. "Aedan Cousland? Wasn't that the man who led the Highever forces that helped us take Fort Drakon, before the _Elvhen_ showed up?"

"Yes, he was almost as good of a fighter as you were, if I remember right. I also received a message the other day, stating that when you return to Denerim he wished to speak with you at the Cousland estate."

"I will have to stop by later to…" Theron was interrupted by a guard barging into the study.

"My Lord, I apologize, but an urgent matter has come up." A man, dressed in the armor of the royal guard, burst into the room.

"What is it now, Ser Isaac, another noble coming to complain about their neighbor having half an acre of land that Loghain may or may not have promised them?" Alistair grinned.

"No my lord, I believe this is much more serious. The woman who accompanied The Hero is currently fighting with a Templar in the throne room. She is threatening violence, and I believe she means it your Majesty." The sense of urgency in the guard's voice was evident.

A knowing glance passed between the two. Theron barreled past the guard, winding through the corridors back to the throne room. As he approached, he could already hear the argument in progress.

"I will only say this one last time, come in quietly for questioning, or I will take you by force."

"Do not dare touch me, you insolent buffoon." Morrigan sounded annoyed; spells would be flying soon if he didn't intervene.

Theron skidded around the final corner, sprinting in between Morrigan and a helmed Templar in a suite of full plate. "Now let's calm down both of you, what is going on here?"

"Stay out of the knife ea…you're The Hero of Fereldan!" The Templar regained his composure and stood up a bit straighter. "Well Ser, I suspect this woman is an apostate, yet she refuses to come quietly. I am afraid soon I might have to use force."

"If you wish to see force, keep pestering me." Theron shot a look back at Morrigan, _'Not helping'_.

"You see this woman threatens me, I have a duty to the Chantry to keep _things_ like her locked up in the tower." Both parties glared at each other intently around Theron, waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Ser, I would prefer you do not refer to my mate as a _thing,_ and I don't think either of us appreciates you threatening her. Now you have two options: forget this ever happened and go back to the chantry, or you can try fighting your way past me to get to her. The choice is yours." Theron's hand dropped to Starfang's hilt, tensing for a fight.

"That thing…er I mean her…I mean…"

Morrigan never let the man finish. "Just go, you moronic fool."

The Templar hurriedly walked out of the throne room; several nobles waiting by the door watched him leave. Theron turned back to Morrigan to find her glaring angrily at him.

"I am not helpless; I could have handled that situation myself."

Theron lead her out of the throne room, where they could not be overheard. "I am not just going to stand there and watch some Chantry blowhard threaten my mate, especially when she is five months pregnant."

" Pregnancy does not hinder my spells."

"I know , but please try not to anger the Templars too much."

" 'Tis not _I_ who am angering them, but they who are angering me."

"I know, I know." He wrapped his arms around her and gently kissed her. "For me, can you try and stay out of trouble?"

"For you, I shall at least _attempt_ it, but 'tis not my fault if I am forced to deal with anymore Templars who come by."

"That is all I can ask, I guess. I fear though I must leave you once again, I have some business in the city to attend to. Tomorrow morning we can head off to Amaranthine. Can you amuse yourself for a few hours without torching any Templars?"

A wry grin appeared on Morrigan's face. "I believe I can find a way to amuse myself for that long." The couple shared one last kiss before Theron left the palace.

The Cousland estate in Denerim was fairly close to Arl Eamon's estate, so finding it turned out to be no problem. Theron was glad for the chance to pass through the market district; it allowed him time to pick up a gift for Morrigan. Though the woman had spent most of her life away from civilization, she had always appreciated fine jewelry.

As he entered the market, he noticed a large crowd gathering around something; he could hear the sounds of struggle. Suddenly, several people were barreled over as a bound elf burst out of the crowd falling on his face at Theron's feet.

The elf in question had short red hair, and piercing blue eyes. Unlike most elves, this one was incredibly muscular, easily rivaling some humans. He donned heavy red steel plate mail, with a large shield strapped to his back.

The elf looked up at him. "Well if it isn't Theron Mahariel or should I call you the _Hero of Fereldan_ now?" Each word was filled with malice and sarcasm.

"Darrian Tabris? Is that you?" Theron gazed down at the man.

"Of course it's me." Several guards burst through the crowd, finally reaching the elf and hoisting him up. One of the guards punched Darrian cleanly in the jaw.

"You fucking bastard!" The guardsman repeated the process several times.

"Guardsman, what is going on here?" Theron demanded.

Without even turning to look at him, one of the guards spoke up. "This knife ear just killed two guards in broad daylight." The guard finally turned around his eye growing wide "You're The Warden aren't you?"

Before Theron could reply, Darrian began shouting. "Those two bastards forced themselves on an elven girl; she was only fourteen! The guards wouldn't help us! We're nothing to them; I had to do something to make them pay." Darrian was practically foaming at the mouth in rage.

"Shut up scum." A guard delivered another swift punch, this one connecting solidly with the elf's nose, promptly breaking it.

"Guardsmen, I'll take over." He grabbed a few silver and handed them to a guard. "Buy yourself a round of drinks."

The guards muttered amongst themselves, before throwing Darrian onto the street and walking away. Darrian was able to lift himself up onto his knees as Theron circled behind him and cut his bindings.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"Because, Tabris, I might have a job for you."

**AN: Well that wraps up that. As I said above I should be able to get chapter two out much much faster than this one.**

**As a warning for when this story gets rolling, not a lot of events line up chronologically, specifically where Anders is and at what date. So I might have to get creative with his history. **

**Also because this is probably the only chapter I will get out before any of the major holidays start, I would like to wish all my readers a Happy Holiday.**

**Anyway please review **

**Prince of Madness 54**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm really sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter done, but I'm done now and I guess that's what matters.**

**Thanks again to my awesome Beta: xseikax**

**Anyway sorry for the wait but enjoy chapter 3**

9:31 Dragon, Drakonis 23rd

"Are you serious?" Darrian raised an eyebrow, a look of surprise on his face.

"Completely."

"You want me, to come with you, an Arl, to Amaranthine to train a bunch of elves to fight?"

Theron sighed. "I'm not an Arl yet, but yes, that is what I am offering. You will be given the title of Knight of Amaranthine, and put in charge of the Alienage guard."

Darrian gave him a quizzical look. "The what?" As far as he knew there was no such thing in any city.

Theron smiled; at least Darrian seemed interested in the position enough to inquire about it. "From my brief stay in the Alienage, I have seen how horrible the conditions are; in an effort to improve things, I am establishing a fully autonomous, all elf guard stationed within the Amaranthine Alienage. They will have full rights to arrest and detain any individual, human or elf, who has committed a crime within the walls of the Alienage or against one of the inhabitants."

Darrian's mouth curled into a wide grin. "Damn Mahariel, that will really piss those human nobles off. Either we are more alike that I thought, or you are batshit crazy. Either way I accept." Darrian held out his hand, which Mahariel just stared at. "Don't tell me you never learned what a handshake was."

"I know what it is, but I have only used it as a greeting." He finally shook Darrian's hand firmly as the other elf just laughed.

"You Dalish really are sheltered, aren't you? Shemlen traditionally use it when agreeing to a business deal."

Theron nodded. "Darrian, I would also like to bring Shianni with us." He knew this would be a touchy subject. Darrian's cousin, Soris, told him about Shianni's attempted rape at the hands of Bann Vaughan and how protective of Shianni he was now.

Darrian's face turned grim. "And what do you want Shianni for; you already have the sorceress bitch don't you?" Darrian's eyes smoldered with accusation.

Theron's right eye twitched slightly in annoyance. He would have socked any other man for referring to Morrigan in such a manner., _I_ _still might when this was all over._ "Calm down for a minute, Tabris, and let me make one thing clear; I don't, nor will I ever, have any interest in Shianni. She is a beautiful girl, but Morrigan is the only one for me now, understand?"

The fire dimmed in Darrian's eyes, and he noticeably calmed. "Then why do you need her to come with us?"

"Well, I was considering giving her a position in Amaranthine; she seems to have a natural talent for organizing the elves. I was considering making her the first Bann of the Alienage."

Darrian's expression was one of total shock. He never considered even considered the possibility that an elf could be made a noble. Theron might be an Arl, but this was only due to his status as Grey Warden. Any race could have been made the Arl, if they were in Theron's shoes. Elf, human, dwarf, hell even a Qunari could have been allowed if he slayed a bloody Arch Demon. His little cousin Shianni, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

Theron continued, as he could see Darrian was too shocked to talk. "Just, go back to the Alienage for now and ask her, see how she feels about it. I'll be in Denerim only a few more days so she will have to make up her mind soon. I'll swing by the Alienage to pick you up and we'll see what she has decided." He turned away from the shocked elf and called over his shoulder. "Now if you excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Oh wait." He spun around and socked Darrian square in the jaw, knocking the surprised elf onto his ass. "Don't **ever** refer to my mate as a bitch again." With that Theron continued on his way to the Cousland estate, leaving a rather irate Darrian in the middle of the market, sputtering curses at him.

.III.

"Bethany, get the children and the crates outta' here. Merrill, on your right!" Garrett Hawke ducked low under a wild sword swing, plunging one of his daggers into one of the Coterie thugs. Merrill launched a large stone fist into an archer's chest, sending the man flying into the nearest wall, crushing his ribcage with a satisfying crunch.

This job had gone from bad to worse. It was a simple escort mission. The children would unload the spice and he would pay for the goods. Only problem was that the crooked bastard Maiven had double crossed them, selling out their group to the Coterie, who had not appreciated the new competition Athenril's smugglers had become, as of late. After only about half the spice was unloaded off the ship the Coterie struck, landing Hawke and his companions in their current predicament.

"And now we have to kill all of them or else they will go running to the Templars. Oh how fucking great." Hawke muttered to himself, stabbing another thug in the stomach. He was growing rather tired of having only two mages for backup on jobs. He loved his sister, and defiantly enjoyed Merrill's company, but he grew weary of always having to kill anyone who saw the two fight. After systematically cutting down the Coterie thugs one by one, and chasing a few stragglers down, Hawke approached Maiven.

The small Rivaini man stared in open shock at the scene before him. This little nobody from Athenril's crew just took down a dozen experienced Coterie men; who was this man?

Hawke approached him, bloody daggers drawn and at the ready. "I'm sorry Maiven, Athenril just can't trust you anymore and quite frankly, neither can I. You had your chance and you blew it. Goodbye." In a flash, the duel daggers slashed across the man's throat, a spray of crimson blood coating the deck of the ship. Maiven clutched his throat, stumbling back before inevitably falling off the edge of the ship into the harbor. Hawke gazed over the edge of the deck and watched as the air bubbles ceased to rise to the surface. Maiven was dead.

Hawke sighed deeply as he tried to find some clean cloth to wipe his daggers off on. He never liked this part of the job. Killing a man in cold blood like this was wrong, but he couldn't let the Templars find out about Bethany or Merrill.

He didn't notice Merrill had joined him until she bombarded him with questions. "Are you hurt? I know a few healing spells. Did we have to kill the man? What are we going to do about the spice now? Will Athenril be mad with you?"

A small grin appeared on Hawke's face. "Merrill you're rambling again."

The small elf girl blushed deeply muttering, "Oh..." and wringing her hands. It was rather cute, in his opinion.

A flash of red on the underside of her wrists caught his attention. He quickly grabbed her wrist and turned it over, much to Merrill's protests. Fresh scars ran across her forearm, joining a collection of others. "Merrill, I thought we agreed that you would stop using blood magic."

She looked away nervously "I don't talk with demons to learn anything new; what I know, I learned from the scrolls back with my clan. The elves used to treat this blood magic like any other type of magic, it just required a higher price than just simple mana. It didn't hurt anyone I swear! Well, other than those thugs, but that was different..." She abruptly ended her rambling and hung her head in shame.

"Merrill, you're my friend and I don't want something to go wrong because of this. Templars, demons, there are a lot of people who can hurt you when you use this skill. So at least, when we are in Kirkwall, try to refrain from using blood magic ok?"

Merrill nodded once. Hawke smiled and let go of her wrist. "Now what are we going to do about this disaster?"

.III.

The Cousland estate was larger than any of the estates he had ever seen before; it even rivaled the royal palace. It showed just how powerful the Teyrn really was, with several Banns and Arls sworn to the Cousland family. He supposed they could easily afford a little extravagance every now and then.

As he walked inside the main gate, Theron couldn't help but be impressed by what he saw. The granite walls were massive, standing nearly as tall as the walls protecting Denerim itself. A small detachment of guards nodded to him as he walked in; oddly, he recognized none of the guards from when he discussed the Soldier's Peak warden plan with Aeden. They must be the relief force that watched over the estate when the Cousland's were back in Highever.

He slowed his pace as he continued through the estate, suddenly feeling uneasy. He recognized nobody, none of the guards, servants, or other staff looked even remotely familiar. It was not until he reached the kitchen's did he find a familiar face, the cook, Sylvia. The blond woman's eyes went wide with surprise. "Ser Mahariel? What are you doing here?"

Theron smiled, happy to see a recognizable face "I have business with Aeden, but I seem to have gotten lost on my way to his study."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Ser, neither Teyrn Cousland nor Master Aeden have been to the estate in about two months."

"Is that so, well then I'm sorry to bother you." Theron smiled and turned to leave. Something definitely wasn't right here. Someone had wanted him to come here, the only question was why. Immediately, he picked up his old habits, taking his time with every step, sticking to the shadows, avoiding patrols. Between his days as a hunter for the clan, and the assassin training Zevran had been teaching him, he was easily avoiding detection by bored guards.

He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary; a lot of card playing, gambling, and general laziness. When the Lord was away, there wasn't much to do in an estate like this. He silently made his way towards the estates study, hoping to find some clue to his summons. As he crept nearer the sounds of voices drifted down the hall.

"The elf should be arriving within the minute, be ready for him, he is the most dangerous contract we have ever worked on." He could detect a faint accent in the man's voice; Zevran pronounced a few words in the same way. Crows. Yet again, the Antivan Crows wished to pit their luck against him. He prayed to the Creators these men fared no better than Zevran did.

"Taking his sweet time, do you think the stupid knife ear is lost?" This was a distinct second voice, the tone was lower, the accent more pronounced. That meant at least two Crows, but how many more laid in wait inside the room, or throughout the rest of the estate for that matter, he didn't know.

"Who cares? He will get here eventually; the guards had orders to lock the gates when he arrived and not to open them until we gave the word. " A third man spoke no doubt, so at least three of them now.

"And when he does get here, the three of us will have a little surprise for him." _Good, only three; I should be able to handle three._ He cursed himself for not bringing more equipment. He only had Starfang on him, mostly for show, and his drake-skin armor. He had assumed that either his status or his skill would keep common muggers at bay, so he hadn't bothered to bring any of his poisons, bombs, or assorted knives. He would need to think of a plan, and quickly.

But he never got the chance. One of the Crows opened the door, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll go look for the damned knife-ear..." He stopped mid sentence as he came face to face with the equally surprised Dalish.

Acting fast, Theron swiftly kicked the man in the groin, forcing the man to keel over with a pained gasp. Following up, he grabbed the back of the man's head and whipped his knee strait into the human's face. He could feel the human's nose break from the impact. Confident the man was dazed and couldn't attempt a counter attack, Theron grasped the man's chin with one hand and promptly snapped the shemlan's neck. Seconds later, Starfang was released from its scabbard, ready for action, sparks arcing along the blade, held up to meet any oncoming challengers.

The remaining two Crow's recovered from their shock and drew their own weapons. The lead fought with an axe and dagger, the second carried a pair of small maces. They advanced cautiously on the elf, knowing now what he could do if they let their guard down. The lead Crow swung his axe the second he was in range, hoping to catch the elf with his dagger when he went to parry.

But Theron had other plans; he swung the heavy oak door shut, grateful to hear the dull thud of the axe sinking into the door. Taking a moment to relieve the man he killed of a sword, he waited, hoping the Crow would do as he wanted. Whipping the door open, he found that his plan worked. The axe was firmly lodged into the door, which had ripped the axe from the Crows hands when opened. Deflecting a hasty lunge with a dagger, Theron embedded Starfang into the man's abdomen, the lightning causing the Crow to convulse on the end of his sword.

The final Crow threw caution to the wind and charged at the elf. Theron kicked the body off his blade, towards the feet of the charging Crow, who proceeded to trip over it, falling face first to the floor. Acting fast, Theron smashed his foot into the man's back, forcing him to the ground, kneeling, the elf brought his blade up to the Crow's neck.

"Now, you are going to tell me everything I want to know. Any tricks, and I will drag you to my witch friend, who will turn you into a toad." For some reason, being turned into a toad by a mage seemed to be one of the biggest fears Shemlen had, but he could never understand why. Literally everyone he met who was afraid of magic mentioned being turned into a toad.

"Bullshit!" The Crow spat on the ground, cursing as the action caused his neck to get much too close to the sparking Starfang, sending painful shock through his body.

_Well, playing on his fears didn't work; time for a new strategy._ "Listen, just tell me what I want to know, and you can leave." The mercy card would usually work for small time thugs, it would be interesting to see how a Crow reacted.

"Fuck you." _Not well, apparently._

"Tell me what I want you know and you get to leave alive. You can be the sole survivor of this conflict, or the third casualty. The choice is yours." Theron grew tired of this game, he missed the days were a few silver or a few persuasive words could get him any information he wanted, but this is what happens when you begin dealing with professionals.

Signs of fear began to break through the man's mask of composure, he would crack soon; he just needed another push. "You know that co-operating is the only way you'll make it out of this situation alive, so why don't you just make it easy on yourself, and just tell me what I want to know?"

"Alright, I'll tell you..." He'd finally cracked.

"I just have three questions, who hired you, why, and how many more of you are in this building?"

The assassin paused for a moment, still hesitant about revealing anything, a bead of sweat dripped down his brow. "I don't know who hired us; there is just an open bounty to be collected from Master Ignacio. Even he admits he doesn't know who hired us, the contractor just used couriers to contact us."

"Ignacio, that merchant out in the market square, and sells the exotic animals?" He'd seen the man occasionally in the market.

"Yes, the very same; he works for the Crows as a handler for the Fereldan branch."

"Now, last question, did the client ever say why he wanted me dead?"

"Something about not standing for a knife ear running Amaranthine" The assassin glanced at the blades near his neck and spoke up again quickly. "Their words, not mine."

Racism; He should have known, or at least expected. Some _shemlen_ couldn't stand to see one of the _Elvhen_ actually make something of himself. He knew there would be a lot of opposition to his rule, though he had hoped it wouldn't be a problem until he reached Amaranthine.

"How did you infiltrate the estate like this, and how many more of you are there?"

"We got work as guards at the estate; it was rather simple, with all the guards dead after the Blight. We were hired on without question." The guard paused, obviously trying to withhold something.

"What are you not telling me?" Theron dug his knee into the man's spine, hoping to goad a response.

With a grunt of pain the main continued, through clenched teeth "The guards at the gate are another group of Crows; we agreed to split the profits from the mission. It was also rumored that another group were able to get jobs at the palace."

The horror dawned on Theron in that moment. If Crows had infiltrated the palace…_Morrigan!_

**AN: Ok well I'll start with this, I'm gonna stop saying when I will get to Amaranthine because I'm not sure anymore.**

**Secondly I would like to mention that I will try not to make this story about Hawke and the rest of the DA2 cast. I mainly add them to try and help the readers get a feel for when the events happen. The cast of DA2 will eventually have a more major roll in the story so I want to at least introduce the relationships and Hawke's personallity before hand.**

**Anyway please review**

**Prince of Madness 54 **


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again to my awesome Beta: xseikax**

**I worked hard yesterday and was able to crank out another chapter**

**Enjoy**

_9:31 _Dragon, Drakonis 23rd

_ Morrigan!_ Theron lifted the guard to his feet, before pinning him to the wall. "Now, you tell me how to get out of here while avoiding the guards at the gate. Now!" Each word was clipped, and harsh.

The assassin was surprised by this change in attitude. Gone was the calm and collected elf he had seen before. In his place was a man burning with rage and furry. "We still have a deal right? I tell you what you want to know, and you let me go?"

Theron's only response was to smash the man's face into the stone wall, breaking his nose. "_Jorder! Hijo de puta!_ Alright! Go to the rear wall; this wall connects to the rest of south, and eventually you should reach the palace ."

Throwing the injured assassin to the floor, Theron bolted from the room. It no longer mattered to him if he was seen by any of the guards, Morrigan could be in danger. He needed to get back to the palace now!

Making his way to the rear of the estate, searching desperately for a way to gain access to the walls. He eventually came to a small guard tower nestled in the corner. He quickly whipped open the door, surprising several guards who were currently involved in a very intense game of Diamondback, and sprinted up the stairs. He could hear the protest of several of the guards but for the time being he ignored them. He would worry about all the laws he may or may not have broken once Morrigan was safe.

Reaching the top of the wall he barreled in the direction he thought was south. Light of day was waning, he would have to hurry; most likely the assassins would choose to strike at night. Several on duty guards tried to stop him, one or two even shot arrows at him. Most missed but one struck him in the right shoulder. The force almost threw him against the wall. He tried to ignore the pain and carry on, but it was impossible to fully suppress the feeling.

After half an hour of running, he was exhausted, he couldn't go on much longer. The pain was too much to bear, and when he reached the next guard post he had to stop.

"Who are you and what are you doing on the wall, elf?" The way the man said elf, with such bitterness and resentment, would have caused Theron to punch him. But he wasn't in the mood to deal with this _shemlen merda. _

"Guardsman, who is you're superior?" The guard was rather surprised that an elf was ordering him around.

"I'm in charge here, what's it to you, elf?"

"I don't have time for your attitude, send a rider to the palace _now_. Antivan Crows may have infiltrated the palace staff; tell them the information comes from Arl Theron Mahariel."

The guards mouth dropped open as he realized who this was. The Hero of Fereldan, and he had an arrow in his shoulder. "My Lord, you're injured..." The guard was cut off by a quick slap to the face.

Theron winced as just moving his left hand had jarred the injury to his shoulder. "Focus guardsman, send out the rider, the king could be in moral danger!" Theron was growing frantic now; this _shemlen_ was a complete idiot.

"Yess-s-s Ser, right away." The man was stuttering now out of sheer nervousness. As the guardsmen called for a rider, Theron called over another guard.

"Guardsman, do you know how to remove an arrow?" The guard nodded his head frantically, and began on his task. Once the fletching was removed, the guards man removed the spaulder from the armor, allowing the arrow to pass through his body without meeting any other obstacle. He poured some whiskey over the entry wound to try and sanitize it. Drawing his sword the guardsman spoke up "My Lord this is going to hurt...quite a lot actually." Theron placed the leather spaulder into his mouth and bit down. The guard counted off then swung the sword pommel into the base of the arrow.

The pain was overwhelming; Theron screamed into the leather spaulder. He had arrows removed before, but it was never pleasant. The arrow first had to exit the body, sometimes with the aid of another person beating it through, then it was cut up and removed. Finally, someone had to cauterize the wound. In short, the entire process would be excruciatingly painful.

Theron braced himself for the long process. The arrow finally broke through his skin after only three most strikes with the sword. The process of cutting the arrow with a dagger, however, took a very long time. None of the guardsmen bothered to carry any sort of medical saw, for obvious reasons, and the cuts needed to be clean to avoid any slivers of wood from getting caught inside the body. After an agonizing twenty minutes the arrow head came off, allowing the guard to pull the remaining arrow out of his body. Another guard came over to him with a red hot dagger and pressed the flat end against each wound, cauterizing it.

When the process was over, Theron removed the spaulder from his mouth, ignoring the teeth marks now embedded in the leather, breathing heavily. The pain was still there, a burning throb, but at least the arrow was gone, and with a little help from Morrigan or Wynne, his shoulder should be fine by the end of the week.

With some help from the guardsmen, Theron was able to stand and make his way to the streets below, where a wagon was waiting for him. He climbed into the back and the driver started off. Several times during the hour long trip, Theron slipped into the realm of unconsciousness, abruptly waking to scan his surroundings for a nonexistent attack. These Crows were already making him jumpy.

"Here we are Ser..." The driver didn't get to finish, Theron was already in a full sprint towards the palace; the guards let him pass without issue, his status as Hero did help at times. He rushed through the thrown room, passing by a confused Alistair.

"Theron, there you are what was that message abou...?" He ignored Alistair's questions, instead running strait for the room he shared with Morrigan. With every step he took, his terror increased, more and more images of what the assassins could do to his mate ran through his thoughts. By the time he reached the heavy oaken door he was in a near panicked state.

Relief flooded through his as he opened the door to find the witch sitting by the fire reading from Flemeth's old grimoire. The witch stood, closing her book, and crocked an eyebrow at his disheveled appearance.

The elf was deathly pale, a result from his blood loss, his armor and hair were coated in dried blood, and his right arm hung lazily at his side. "Oh thank the Creators you are safe." He wrapped his arms around the witch. A small crowd, composed of Alistair and a few royal guards gathered around the door.

"Yes, yes, I am alright, you can let me go now." Morrigan was rather bothered by the crowd outside the door watching them. It was then when she saw his shoulder. "Now, tell me what you did to your shoulder. 'Twould seem like an arrow wound. What trouble have you caused now?"

Seeing that his mate was safe, the adrenalin that had been running through his entire body shut down, and began to wear off. He didn't get the chance to respond, as he promptly collapsed onto Morrigan, unconscious. The witch was able to hold him up, rather awkwardly and began barking orders. "Oaf, get in here. The rest of you leave." With Alistair's help, Morrigan was able to get the elf into the bed.

Zevran walked into the room a few moments later, the smell of Antivan wines fresh on his breath. "I had heard our Warden friend has had a busy day today; did you wear him out this badly my dear? Maybe he could use some help next time." He received only a glare from Morrigan and a grimace from Alistair. His care free attitude was dropped, replaced with one born of years of being an assassin. "I have been interrogating each of the guards like you wished of me, but not all of them are here, and the Crows most likely wouldn't take a position as a guard unless the needed. Everyone suspected the guards, and sometimes the chef's first. No one thinks of the gardener, the maids, and other assorted servants."

Alistair nodded, and began discussing the possibilities of the identities of the guards. Morrigan sat on the bed and waited a few minutes, hoping the fools would leave the room so she could care for her lover properly. Unfortunately they persisted, even sitting down and getting comfortable by the looks of it. "Will you idiots please have your conversation elsewhere?"

Alistair grumbled a bit, but rose and left the room, with Zevran in tow. The oaken door shut soundly, and Morrigan breathed a sigh of relief. She stood once again, and began undressing her unconscious lover. The sight of the elf in his small clothes was usually a welcomed sight for the witch. Every contour of his body was exposed, ever muscle, every scar. This was all marred by the sight if his latest wound, still wrapped in bandages. She slowly undid the makeshift bandages, and examined the wound. _Fools; he should have come to me. _ She retrieved her staff from it's place in the corner and began to work simple healing magics.

The wound began to stitch itself together, decreasing the size of the raw wound by half. That was all her magic could accomplish at this time. She knew very little about healing magic, and the effort needed to cast the spells taxed her greatly. She looked down at her rounded stomach, reminded of another reason why she couldn't strain herself too much. She knew Theron would be devastated if their first child was harmed because she strained herself for him.

"Such an impossible man. Only one day in Denerim and he's already wounded." She sighed as she wrapped clean bandages around the wound. He was beginning to regain some of his color; a brief smile graced her lips at the sight.

Morrigan gazed out the window, rather surprised how late it was. Maybe those spells took longer than she thought. Removing her clothes she climbed into the bed with Theron. The baby was weighing on her heavily tonight;the fatigue from the spells announced itself the minute her head hit the pillow, and within seconds she was drawn into a deep slumber.

.IV.

Theron jumped up off the drenched floor, the freezing water jolted both his body and mind. He scanned the room for a threat but only found Morrigan, holding a bucket. After a time his addled brain was able to put two and two together. "Was that necessary?"

"You are beginning to smell of gore; you need to wash yourself before returning to bed."

Theron was unable to focus on her words. Morrigan stood in the door frame in nothing but her small cloths, a sight the elf would never grow tired of.

Morrigan turned around for a moment, much to Theron's disappointment. _Though I do get a great view of her a..._ Morrigan whirled around, and splashed another bucket of water into his face.

He sputtered, spitting out water as Morrigan spoke up, "Ah there, now that I have your attention I shall repeat myself. Wash up; you reek." After she slammed the door to their room did he realize where he was. In the middle of the palace's hall, in his small clothes. _Why did I look for her again?_ He grumbled to himself. He began sneaking through the halls, hoping to make it to the washroom without being noticed.

Slinking through the halls in the middle of Drakonis was rather uncomfortable. It was freezing in the castle, especially in the state Morrigan left him in. Between his wound and his soaked state, he was sure by the end of the week he would have some sort of aliment.

He nearly had a heart attack as one door slowly creaked open and Zevran's head poked out. Ducking around the corner Theron listened intently for the sound of the door closing. "Alright the coast is clear you two should get going." He recognized Zevran's distinct accent. Footsteps could be heard coming towards him. He pressed into one of the small alcoves in the stone walls hoping that whoever was coming couldn't see him.

A small elven maid, her blush almost as red as her hair, and man dressed in a royal guard uniform walked quickly down the hall. Hearing the door to what was obviously Zevran's room close, he dashed around the corner, only to crash headfirst into Zevran himself.

Theron shook his head, and looked up. Not surprisingly, Zevran was also in his small cloths, but what surprised him was that there were what appeared to be rope burns on the assassin's wrists. "What were you... never mind..." He shook his head again, not wanting any mental images to start forming.

"Are you sure, it is quiet a exciting tale." Zevran smiled broadly, obviously unashamed to talk about his exploits.

"Yes, very sure, but why are you leaving your room in just that?" Theron gestured to the elf's attire.

"Now who said that was my room?" Glancing at Theron's similar attire Zevran smirked. "And I could be asking you the same question now couldn't I."

"Morrigan said I reeked, and told me to wash up." He offered a hand to Zevran to help the elf up, which he graciously excepted.

"A good soak would feel rather nice right about now, always should take one after a good tumble."

Something occurred to the elf after a moment. "Zevran, I'm going to regret asking, but whose room is that." He pointed to the door as they passed it.

"Oh that's Alistair's room, Taylor always wanted to lay with a king, and this is the closest we could get."

"That Elven girl?"

"Nope." Zevran's grin grew as Theron shuddered.

"Why do I ask you these things?"

**AN: Well this is by far the fastest I have ever gotten a chapter out. I felt I owed it to people to actually get another update out quickly, after well about a month without an update.**

**For anyone wondering what is going on with the whole Crows in the palace plot, please wait for next chapter, all your questions will be answered then, hopefully.**

**Now for the traslations**

**Elvish**

**_shemlen_:quick child (human)**

**_merda_: shit (Gaelic not elvish but it works)**

**Antivan- (Spanish)**

**_Jorder-_ Fuck**

**_Hijo de Puta_ – roughly, son of a bitch**

**That's all for now please review, I love hearing from people**

**Prince of Madness 54**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again to my amazing Beta xseikasx for all the time she spends helping me make these chapter actually presentable.**

**Anyway sorry for the wait, so let's get on with the show!**

9:31 **Dragon, Drakonis 24****th**

The morning light roused Theron from his restless slumber. Morrigan had fallen asleep before he was able to finish washing the blood from his body and hair, which had forced him to spend the night in the washroom itself. It had been a cold, miserable night, made worse by the fact he was in only his small cloths.

It wasn't so much embarrassment that prompted this uncomfortable feeling, but more a sense of racial pride. To the Dalish clothing was needed only for practicality, keeping oneself warm or providing protection, not modesty like in _shemlen_ culture. In fact it was not uncommon to see elves walk around the camp completely nude, especially in the summer months. But s_hemlen_ society was far different. It was his duty to show Fereldan that the _Elvhenan_ were more than the barbarians theythought they were.

The iron hinges creaked as the door was slowly slid open. Theron poked his head out nervously, hoping he had attracted no attention. It seemed for once that night, he had caught a break. The guard duty was still relatively light; most of the guards were interrogating servants, or being interrogated themselves. Perfect. Slinking out of the washroom, he crept back to his chambers. He prayed to the Creators that Morrigan decided to rise on time today.

He approached the door slowly, checking the halls for movements, before knocking on the door. The dull thud of his fist meeting the door echoed through the hallways. Luckily, the thickness of the stone walls prevented the sound from bothering any of the other occupants on this level of the castle.

"Morrigan let me in please." He maintained his composure on the outside, but he was getting worried. Every moment he waited was another moment someone could see him.

He could hear groans of annoyance from inside the room. Morrigan was awake at least; her mood, however, didn't seem promising. The heavy door slowly slid open, revealing a rather ill-tempered Morrigan. "Oh thank the Creators." Racing through the door way, he placed a brief kiss upon the witch's lips, surprising her greatly.

The startled woman whirled around, watching her lover throw open their chest of clothing. He hastily donned every piece of clothing or armor that possessed a fur lining. The result was a random smattering of equipment. Fur lined Dalish gloves, a pair of plain brown trousers white furs lined the cuffs, and a leather coat, a golden fur framing the neckline. _Maybe sending him out in just his small clothes was a poor decision? Regardless, what's done is done, no use pondering such trivial issues._ "Why is it that you wait until morning to return?"

Theron looked up from the chest; a fur cap newly placed upon his head pushed his ears down at a rather ridiculous angle. The regal clothing had been a gift from Alistair; he had hoped it would make the elf appear more fitting of his new title. "Did you say something, _emma lath_?" He knew that if this conversation got started a fight would ensue.

" 'Tis not important I suppose..." muttering under her breath she crawled back into the massive bed the two shared.

"You're going back to sleep? The sun has already risen." Theron was rather surprised; usually both he and Morrigan were very early risers.

"I spent the better part of last night tending to your wound. Healing magic is taxing, as you know, and 'tis not like I am with child or anything of the sort. Why would I need rest after such a night? 'Tis a mystery indeed." She pulled the woolen blanket tighter around her body.

Shedding the heavy coat, he placed it back into the chest throwing the gloves and cap in after it. He wondered why he put them on in the first place if he would just end up taking them off, until he felt the draft. _Because it's Drakonis and freezing,_ he thought, answering his own question. Climbing into the bed he positioned himself behind Morrigan, his arms circling around her in a warm embrace. "I never did thank you properly for everything you did for me last night _emma lath_." He could feel his mate shiver as his hot breath brushed across her neck.

Morrigan hesitated for a moment. "Allowing me to sleep in peace would be reward enough, for now."

Hearing her uncertainty, he tried his luck again. "Are you sure?" He kissed her neck, coercing a faint moan from her. She started fidgeting in his arms, until she was facing him. A moment later he felt a hand cupping his groin. Morrigan smiled seductively, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"If you have any desire for a second child, you will let me sleep." Theron could hear the exhaustion creeping into her voice. She truly was more worn than he previously thought.

Resting her head on his chest Morrigan closed her eyes, her hand still poised to carry out her threat. Theron was smart enough to realize that Morrigan was not in the mood for idle threats at the moment. She was especially testy when she was tired, and wouldn't hesitate to carry out her threat.

"_Manfuin emma lath."_ A small smile graced the witches lips. As he held her, she realized how comforting it was to sleep next to a warm body. That it was Theron only made it better.

.V.

**Several Hours Later**

"Ah, rise and shine, little lovebirds ." The voice was follow by a loud, obnoxious clanging noise. Forcing an eye open, Morrigan glared daggers at the imbecile who dared to rouse her. Standing in the doorway were four figures, three of them elven. She recognized Zevran immediately; the male red haired elf looked vaguely familiar. The identities of the armored human woman and the red headed elf maiden were a mystery, however. Zevran happened to be holding a small bell, like the cooks would use to announce the completion of a meal, the source of the clanging noise.

Raising an arm, she prepared to cast a low voltage lightning bolt. "We may wish to move." Zevran pushed the woman out of the way just in time for her to avoid the bolt of electricity streaming from the witch's hand.

"By the Maker, the Commander is bedding a mage?" The woman was astounded, staring open mouthed at the pair.

The witch was about to cast the spell again, when another hand grabbed hers, lowering it. "It's not nice to shoot lightning at guests, _emma vhenan'ara_."

She buried her head into his chest muttering. "Then make them go away."

"Could you four give us some privacy?" He received nods as Zevran herded the other three down the hall. "They're gone."

"Good." Morrigan closed her eyes, laying her head down upon Theron's chest once again.

"Morrigan, it's probably a good idea if we..." Before Theron could even finish the sentence he was met by Morrigan's curt response. "No."

This wouldn't end well "Morrigan it has to be at least early afternoon..."

The response once again was swift, more forceful than the last. "No!" The witch rolled over, onto one of the pillows.

"_Emma lath_ we are supposed to be..."

"Impossible elf!" The response was muffled by the pillow and barely audible. Morrigan slowly turned back around, glaring at the elf. "Do you not understand the definition of the word no?"

Sadly, he could not afford to be gentle with his mate at this moment. "Morrigan, I understand that you are tired, but we are leaving for Amaranthine today. You can try and sleep on the road, but we need to get up soon." Morrigan did not look pleased at all. A permanent scowl was plastered on the woman's face; if looks could kill he would have joined the Creators by now.

After a good half hour of bickering, and the odd threat from Morrigan, Theron was able to coerce his mate from their bed. The couple lumbered out of their room fifteen minutes later, exhausted and irritable. They were fully packed for the trip to Amaranthine, leaving only a few minor articles of clothing in the suite for whenever they stayed in the palace. Theron ended up carrying the bulk of their load, even with Morrigan constantly insisting she could carry more.

The servants weren't sure who to be more afraid of, the witch who could roast them like a chestnut, or the elf's, now famous, twin crackling blades. Regardless of which was more frightening, they gave both of them a wide berth, trying to be scarce when they heard the racket approaching.

"You impossible elf, just hand me that satchel!" Morrigan tried in vain to seize the bag before the elf could stop her.

Theron leaned to his right, the heavy luggage sending him careening into the stone wall beside him. "Morrigan, I'm fine. Please, let's just get outside and meet the others." Righting himself, he forced through the blinding pain in his shoulder and kept walking. While the arrow wound was closing and healing well, sharp movement and impact still caused a great deal of anguish.

Morrigan glared at the elf. "Now look what your stubbornness has done. Are you satisfied, or will it require more pain to make you listen to logic?

Theron stared at her exasperated. "I'm being stubborn? You're the one who is two months away from having our child, yet you keep pushing yourself."

Morrigan stared at Theron incredulously. " 'Tis a satchel Theron; 'twill not harm me or the child." She was growing rather tired of this. Since her pregnancy had begun to show, Theron had started to treat her as if she were a porcelain doll. Even when they stayed with Ashalle, Theron refused to let her do anything but the simplest of house hold chores. This treatment was maddening. Theron knew she hated to be fawned over, and now she was constantly bored, unable to do the things she enjoyed. She had to stop this.

Morrigan grabbed his shoulder, the good one, interrupting his response. He turned towards her, only to receive a slap. "Now you will listen to me Theron Mahariel. I will not have you treating me like some helpless little girl. I am fully capable of carrying my own bags, physical work, and much more. You shall stop this foolishness immediately."

"But the baby…" Theron was silenced by another slap.

"Is coming to no harm, and you know it." Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. "Honestly Theron, if pregnant woman were as feeble as you are making me out to be the Dalish would have died out decades ago. Were any of the women in your clan treated the way you treat me?"

Theron thought back to his childhood, specifically to one event involving a woman named Fynin. Fynin was the Hunting Master at the time, and incredibly stubborn. Even when nine months pregnant she insisted on taking the apprentices out to train, which had resulted in her getting dragged back to camp by three of the senior apprentices. Her water had broken while chasing down a wounded halla she had shot, yet she refused to let one of the hunters go after it while she went back to the Keeper.

A small smile graced the elf's lips. Morrigan was rather similar to Fynin, now that he thought about it. Both women shared the same fiery determination, sense of independence, and stubbornness.

Morrigan's expression softened slightly. "You need not worry about me so much. I shall be fine." She gently pressed her lips to his. "Our child shall be fine." Back away slowly the witch's smile faded.

"Now we must get moving. We are late are we not?" Morrigan huffed marching away from the now confused elf.

…_umm what just happened?_ Morrigan's moods had completely shifted in a matter of seconds. _Maybe that was an example of those "mood swings" Ashalle warned me about. Creators, this will be a long trip._

.V.

9:31 **Dragon, Cloudreach 3****rd**

**Nevarra City, Nevarra**

2:12 **AM**

It was time to play the next move. A silhouetted figure crept up slowly next to the sleeping man. The man in question was Feron Pentaghast, Prince of Nevarra. While Feron was one of the younger princes, the fifth in line for the crown, he was popular with the people. The young man was known for being charitable to the poor, and had personally led several dozen skirmishes against bandit parties and highwaymen, but most importantly, he was a mage sympathizer.

Feron had been a longtime advocate for mages right, and a very vocal one at that. The man had grown up living with his mother, the Baroness of Cumberland. Frequently in his youth, he accompanied his mother whenever she went to oversee the College of Magi personally. Growing up in such a mage friendly environment, he was horrified by what he had seen during his time spent abroad as a squire in Starkhaven. When he had returned, he became a knight in his father's court, and had been working towards the freedom of mages of Nevarra. This made him an easy pawn to manipulate in the game.

The first step towards using this man would be to give him the gift. It had taken several decades; several subjects had been sacrificed for it, but the knowledge had been achieved. The ability for humans to use magic came from a mutation in the brain, which allowed one to become more in tune with the Fade. With the proper manipulation of healing magic, it was possible to recreate this mutation in the brain. This technique had worked on Morrigan, proving how powerful a mage with this power could become.

The process took several hours, but she had plenty of time. The guards had been rendered unconscious for the duration of the process, leaving her free to continue without interruption. The man beneath her made a few small groans as the magic did its work, but did not rise.

The process ended as the sun began to rise above the horizon. Only one more step before this transformation would be complete. She placed her hand onto Feron's forehead, her palm glowing slightly.

Inside the prince's dreams, the figure of Andraste appeared, a wreath of white flame circling her form. _"Feron, I have a task for you. I am displeased with the way the Chantry has been treating mages in Thedas. I wish for you to begin teaching that my message was misinterpreted all those years ago. It was not my wish for all mages to be enslaved; I only thought that they be given limited power. The Maker has agreed to allow me to grant you a gift, a gift to show the world that the Maker still cares for his people but is unhappy. It is your destiny to free the mages of Thedas. Until that day, the Maker shall not return."_ Breaking the connection to the prince's dreams, she smiled. The seeds had been sown. She could sit back and wait a few years for events to play out, and wait to see if things went as they should, or if _he_ would change them, as he had before.

.V.

9:31 **Dragon, Cloudreach 7****th**

Theron hated Cloudreach for one specific reason: the rain. Cloudreach was the transition month between the snows of Wintersend, and the light showers of Summerday. This produced heavy downpours with heavier winds, and temperatures much like those of Drakonis. This all boiled down to a cold, soggy, miserable day for the elf and his traveling companions. The worst part was dealing with Morrigan.

Without the ability to make a fire, keeping warm while traveling during Cloudreach depended on one thing: blankets, and lots of them. Sadly, if you did not pile on enough, as the day progressed the humidity would eventually turn the mound of wool into a damp and heavy cocoon. This turned out not to be enough to keep everyone completely dry. The rains were especially hard this year, and no one avoided getting soaked to the bone.

This brought on a wide variety of complaints from the witch. "Who in their right mind decided it would be a good idea to travel in this kind of weather?" The other occupants of the wagon let out a collective groan. This was the third time the witch had made the same complaint in the last hour.

Darrian, whom was seated next to the Dalish elf, spoke up. "Mahariel, can't you shut her up? It's miserable enough out without her constant bitching." The red haired elf shot a glare back at said witch, who cast an equally intense glare back.

While Darrian's tone and language aggravated Theron, he had to admit that Morrigan was trying even his patience. "Please, everyone just try and bear with each other for a few more hours. We are almost to the Keep." Avoiding and diffusing conflicts had been his unofficial job since the ragtag group began this journey. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, someone was upsetting someone else. He had gathered a certain amount of experience dealing with this during his travels over the course of the Blight, but he had always had someone else to help him keep order.

Zevran had made it his personal mission to bed either Mhairi or Shianni. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have minded much, but this time it was very different. This time Darrian was always one accidental touch away from caving the assassin's skull in. In addition to this, Darrian seemed to just revel in finding ways to aggravate Morrigan. Theron wasn't sure if it was because Morrigan was a _shemlen,_ or for some other unknown reason. Under any other circumstances he would have found it rather amusing, but with everything else making their journey so miserable he found it annoying.

All of these actions, mixed with Morrigan's volatile temper, created a rather delicate situation. This equaled one massive headache for a certain Dalish elf. In the Clan, issues like these were settled rather simply. If two elves had a disagreement and couldn't travel together, they simply road in another _aravel_ until the dispute was settled. Sadly, with only one wagon, this solution wasn't possible.

"Mahariel, Mahariel, MAHARIEL! Are you listening to me?"

Theron cringed, dropping the reins momentarily to cover his ears. "By _Fen'Harel's_ fangs Darrian, why are you yelling? I'm right here."

"Damn it Mahariel, can't you just tell your woman to shut up please! Give the rest of us five minutes of blasted peace." Theron heard an indignant growl of, "His Woman!" coming from Morrigan behind them.

Glancing back at the witch, whose hands were inching towards her staff, he gave Darrian a tired look. "Do you want to try? Because I sure don't, I respect her enough to let her do what she wants."

Darrian scowled, placing his helmet low over his eyes. How the elf slept wrapped in solid metal was beyond Theron, but he didn't question it, especially if it meant less arguing.

.V.

9:31 **Dragon, Cloudreach 8****th**

It around midnight, and still raining, when Vigil's Keep came within sight of the weary travelers. What they saw was not a welcoming sight; the Keep was in total disarray. Corpses littered the ground, thatch roves burned high into the sky, livestock ran about the grounds were in a panic. Worst off all, a familiar feeling lit up in Theron's head.

The elf drew his blade seconds before the abominations hurtled out of the Keep; a lone fleeing soldier their target. A dozen Genlocks stormed after the terrified man, not yet noticing the wagon of newcomers. Forgoing his own safety, Theron launched himself off the wagon, followed close by Darrian. Even hindered by the heavy steel plates adorning his body, Darrian was able to keep up with Theron remarkably well.

Theron pounced on his prey with skilled grace. Plunging both blades straight into the abdomen of his first target, the dance began again. Each movement wasted no motion; each strike precise and lethal. The thunderous sound of steel connecting with bone was heard to his right, but Theron paid it no heed. All it meant was one less darkspawn needed to be dealt with, soon to be far fewer. When the last Genlock lay slain; Theron's dance of death concluded. Mhairi approached the pair of blood soaked elves in awe.

The Commander had dispatched almost eight of the creatures, single handedly. Darrian's body count was smaller, yet not unimpressive. The four he felled suffered from either collapsed ribs, or a cleaved skull, while the elf suffered nary more than a couple of scratches on his shield. If this was how elvish warriors were trained to fight, she wondered how her ancestors ever were able to conquer such a people.

She noticed the Antivan elf, Zev-something, crouched over the fleeing guardsman, whom had been reduced to the fettle position in fear. Unable to get any sort of response out of the man, aside from "We're all gonna die, there's no hope! We're All Dead!" the elf spat out a rapid series of words, most likely Antivan, and slapped the man.

"I had really hoped I wouldn't have to fight these things again after Denerim. Ugly little fuckers just can't leave you alone, Mahariel, can they?" Darrian muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Ignoring Darrian's comment Theron turned to address Mhairi, whom he realized had been trying to get his attention. "Commander, Commander are you listening to me?"

"Sorry Mhairi I was a bit distracted, say that again."

Pinching the bridge of her nose Mhairi began speaking again. "Commander, people could still be alive in there we need to help them." As if on cue a tower of blue fire erupted from inside the keep.

"Mhairi, Darrian, you're on point. Zevran leave him, you're with me. Morrigan can you please look after that guardsman?"

"Oh so I have been reduced to mere babysitting duties?" The witch scowled, already climbing slowly out of the wagon.

Not at the liberty to take the time to deal with Morrigan's attitude at the moment, Theron snapped, "Yes Morrigan, I am asking you to look after this man." Another blast of fire, this time shooting several scorched darkspawn into the field, reminded him how dire the situation is. "I don't have time to argue, so please just humor me this one time." Not waiting for a response, he signaled Mhairi and Darrian to begin approaching the keep.

The mage fire had apparently not gone unnoticed by the other darkspawn, a pack of Hurlocks were charging into the courtyard. Theron's thoughts clicked back into its usual patterns. "Hammer and Anvil, now!" Zevran nodded and the two rouges bolted towards the flanks of the darkspawn. The two failed to notice the confused looks on Darrian and Mhairi's faces. The two shield bearers just shrugged and charged headlong into the pack of darkspawn.

As the battle concluded, Theron marched up to his heavily armored companions. "What was that? You were supposed to hold where you were, and let us flank them on the other side."

Darrian refused to back down and stared the smaller elf down. "Well how the fuck I was I supposed to know that? You just shouted some bullshit and charged."

Theron groaned in realization. He was too used to fighting with Alistair and Oghren by his side; he had automatically defaulted to their old strategies without thinking. "Right," Theron ran a gloved hand through his hair with a sigh. "Sorry about that. Now let's go."

The quartet carved their way through the darkspawn masses, saving a score of guardsmen along the way, until they reached the battlement from which the fire had erupted. The group stacked up on the door, Zevran and Theron hugging the left wall, Mhairi hugging the right. Darrian stood two meters away from the door, shield raised. Signaled by a nod from Theron, the armored elf charged the door, splintering the battered and scorched oak door. Mhairi followed next, shield raised high in a protective stance. The elf rouges bolted in only milliseconds later.

Theron's jaw almost dropped to the ground when he took in the scene before him. A single blond haired mage stood among a pile of at least two dozen corpses. Most of them were darkspawn, but roughly five of them were Templars, their armor too covered in gore to make out the cause of death.

"I didn't do it!"

**AN: Finally got to Anders and Awakening.**

**I'm really sorry to everyone who reads this story regularly; between school and setbacks this chapter has taken WAAAYYYY too long. What really got me down and caused such a delay was when the program I use (LibreOffice) crashed before I had a chance to save a really long section of this chapter I had written perfectly. This had taken about two hours to write and I couldn't recover enough of it, so I put it off for a while because I couldn't remember exactly how I wrote it. Hopefully it won't happen again.**

**I will try not to ever let a chapter drag on this long again... sadly no promises though; school has been a bitch lately. Luckily I have a fairly good idea of how I want Awakening to play out.**

**Please review, I love hearing from you guys.**

**Prince of Madness 54**


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